 Broadway's My Beat, from Times Square to Columbus Circle, the gaudiest, the most violent, the lonesomeest mile in the world. Broadway's My Beat, with Larry Thor as Detective Danny Clover. Happens faster on Broadway now, the coming of the night, and the time clock people go home to dinner in shadows, and far away from a time still yet to come, a wind drifts softly. It touches a cheek and quickens a step, finds a doorway and waits there, and its voice is a sigh of regret. The sounds of the river seem closer, the neon blinks coldly. It's getting dark, and the police headquarters, those who have dusted in at six o'clock, those downstairs who are making complaints, those upstairs complained again, and the two in my office just because they've been sent there. Personally, I think it's a lot of nonsense. Nobody asked you, Vic. Nobody turned to you and asked for an opinion. I didn't think this was close enough. The fact remains, Ms. Morgan, the fact remains that ten minutes ago I got a permit to carry a gun, and your permit giver told me I ought to stop and talk to you. That's the fact. I suppose now you've gotten the permit, you're going out and buying a gun. As soon as I leave here. Probably, you need a gun like I need a hold of... So many things you need, Vic. Manny, I'll let you escort me, darling. Don't louse it up with dialogue. Uh, that's the way it goes, Clover. Not telling why you need that gun this morning. Again? I told the permit giver. Tell me. Men. She's got to defend herself. Shut up, Vic. Be an agent for Polly Morgan and you get shut up, Vic. Never you'd better tell me, Vic. Ah, Polly Morgan, her big singer of sad ballads. Her man's been calling her up threatening. The way all of you men threaten. But he said out loud enough. Yeah, Polly, the way we all do. Also, she says the man's following her. You saw him. You saw him as well as I did. Yeah, I saw him, Polly. Did you, Vic? I saw a guy running on the street this morning. Polly said that's the man. He was. Then when I went back to my apartment later, he called. He told me that was him who touched me in the crowd. He said he'd be there tonight. He's going to be where? Where I'm singing. At the 13 Club. He said he'd be at the ring side tonight. Okay, I'll be there. If you want to. Come on, Vic. Come on, come on. The room suddenly empty of her. And of the man who was just to affair well with her. Shrugged, half begun, not finished. And the autumn darkness has brought you a variety of things. The rustle of silk perfumed only with the night wind. The scornful voice of a woman who walks close on the scalpel edge of a private terror. The permit for death held close to her. The grudging invitation to come prevented if you can. And fill in against the time of going with routine. The gathering, the sorting, the parceling out of the day's violence. Then the glance at the wall clock. And the realization that you could be late. And at the canopy entrance of the 13 Club, find Vic gnawing on the remains of a fingernail. Paul's long enough to tell you. Farley's on, Danny. I got to pay the ringside all field to me. And the usher through the decor of bare shoulders. And neck ties bright with the signature of Countessus. And through tears wept into very dry martinis because Paulie's song was nostalgia with her cover cards. And listen as Paulie sang, her body leaning against the wall of remembered pain. Like it was an egg in a pain to draw down extra amount of dollars a week. An extra one's in the fourth figures, and she's good. Hard to believe, huh? Hard to believe how she can sing with so much feeling. Some girls come from here and they're from nowhere. Paulie sings from here in the heart. Difficult to figure, huh? That can't happen. No, not beef, mind you. It pays me well this artificial heart she sets the beating in public places. She said the man who's been annoying her would be here at ringside. You see him anywhere, Vic? How would I know him if I saw him? A man running away from something in the street. That's an annoyance. I get the urge myself sometimes. You know any of these men around us? Yeah, that one there with the two blondes and the male lieutenant. That's Joey Klein. His last wife made a settlement on him. A native village in Mallorca or someplace. He needs Paulie like a... Hey, hey, that one over there. It looks like Sinus. Uh-huh. The Sinus. But things are dull around here. I go over to him and discuss what's new in nuclear fission. And there's always something new. Paulie interests him in terms of how soon she's going to explode. Do you think him? A cultured scientist? The one alone against the wall. Oh, him? Daddy, I'm surprised at you. Do not be taken in by the rough and tumble-free bugger. Hey, that's Paulie. I heard her scream before. Now, where is he? Sounds like he's in the dressing room, Danny. You think maybe he'll take me to a Vic? Yeah, sure, sure. Come on. He's going to be all right. Your hand's off of me. Where'd he go, Miss Morgan? I have the gun. I have killed him. Where'd he go, Miss Morgan? Hey, this window, Danny, looks like through here. We'd have seen him in the hall if he could. He must have got in while Paulie was on. What's the matter, Danny? Why do you look like that on me? What's your budget for publicity, Vic? Oh, Danny. Danny, what kind of talk is that at a time when Paulie... That's what it is to you, Mr. Clover. A man hides in here, waits for me. Tears at me and you... You can identify Miss Morgan? Yes, yes, yes. Get her coat, Vic. We have a file of headquarters. I want Miss Morgan to come down. You heard him, Vic. Get my coat. Here's some more pictures. Maybe his picture will be in this stack. I'm getting really bored, Mr. Clover. That's tough. You finally saw the man up close, didn't you? This is the way we operate. Bring you down to headquarters. Let you look through pictures. Hope that you'll identify someone in the gallery. The man is... All right, all right, all right. Only, why don't you go sit on the other side of the table? Go ahead, go ahead, go there. Look, Miss Morgan, I've got a thing to tell you. You're going to do it very badly. I've heard it from Paulie. You're a name on a police file. It means a job I've got to do. Outside of that, you don't mean a thing in the world. It really eats you, doesn't it? Look at the pictures. Really does. All right, now look at the pictures. Oh, hi, Morgan. Danny. Hello, Miss Morgan. You better stand over there, Morgan, on the other side of the table. What? Oh, forget it. Where'd he go? Oh, this. From the description, Miss Morgan gave the artist and technical. Here's a sketch. Show it to him. Would you mind taking a look at this, Miss Morgan? All right. This is him, all right. You're sure? Almost exactly. No, he's a little straighter. Eye's a little further apart. Thanks, Miss Morgan. I'll take you back to your apartment. Please proceed, you too, Mr. Morgan. I'll stop at a desk on the way out. Issue orders for the printing and distribution of the likeness of a man who, in Polly Morgan, had found a summon reason of his loneliness. A man who had touched her in a crowd, waited for her in a darkened room, clawed at her because she screamed at his despair. And take the woman home in silence. And from there, go to the silent, furnished room. Draw down the bed covers. Drive for this night to sleep it away. In the morning, at headquarters, be told there was someone waiting for you in your office. Find him there, peeking at things, sort of trying to rearrange him on your desk because you walked in on him at a bad time. Oh, I, uh, I, uh, they said you'd be a while coming. It seems no one expected you so soon. Find what you were looking for? I wasn't looking for anything. It's, uh, it's a sort of a habit, fingering what, not mine to, that's right, habit. I, oh, I'm ashamed, honestly. Is that you wanted to see me? Why? That man, that man you police are looking for. Well, I had no sooner finished packing up his picture in my office. Well, it came to me like that. It did? Oh, yes, why, that fella's a guest in my hotel. I own a hotel, King Palti. And he's a guest at my hotel. Who? This man you want, Lars Nielsen. A salesman out of Black River Falls, Wisconsin. Always comes to my hotel when he's in, it's our city, likes it because it's clean and quiet. Just old people, really. Take me to him, Mr. Prottie. Oh, glad they, but, uh, he's not there. I rushed up to his room to tell him you people wanted him for something, and he wasn't there. I just don't know where he might be. He's a fellow who's always bragging about what he calls dinky contact. Danny Clover speaking. I saw him from the window, Mr. Clover. He's on his way up here. What do I do? What? You're alone, Ms. London? Yes, please, hurry, please. Passing without tears. Its days were ripped from the calendars, tossed into choked waste baskets, cart of the way to public dumps. So what's the weep? For the gone days, the used up days, the scribbled on days? About face, kid. October waits for you with a promise in each and every nightfall. Blank, empty, panting to be filled in. Don't turn your back. Walk into a lead with your heart. There's neon to keep you warm. They're spectacular to light your way. You'll hardly hear the sobbing because the winds are high on winter's eve. Walk into it, kid. It's time for another dream. But where I was, September lingered to give something to remember it by. The man lying in death. His blood etching out a new pattern on the monotone of the rug. Watching the delicacy of its flowing design, the woman who had waited on his dime, the woman who had killed him. You're sure? You're sure he's dead? Yes. I didn't want it that way. I only wanted. What, Miss Morton? To frighten him. Despite what I told you before, all I wanted was to scare him away. So he wouldn't touch me like that. Look at me like that. That's why you got the permit for the gun only to frighten him away? I want him out of my sight. I want him taken out of here. Do you understand? Don't take care of it. There've been other cases like yours, Miss Morton. Cases where the woman didn't find it necessary. To kill. I'm not like those women. I'm different. You've looked at me long. You've heard me sing. You know I'm different. Yes, you were killed. You think I could have stopped him with sweet talk? I'm just torched strong with my lips against his cheek. Is that what they did? Those other women you told me about? That's how they stopped him. Could have locked your door. It was locked. But he got in. After his in, I opened it and asked him, please go. I remember I said, please. How did he get in? He stood beating on my door and beating and beating and beating. I screamed and then finally he went away. But he came back. Through the kitchen window. I heard the crash of glass. He must have come up by the fire escape. Belk in the window. Show me. Show here. And from here he crowded you into the other room where you were killed. I asked him into that room. I said it would be nicer there. We could talk. It gave me time to get the gun. When he saw it, he laughed. He was laughing when you want me to go somewhere with you whatever has to be done now. Yeah. Sure you're well, Miss Mark. Oh, thank you, Gino. And thank you. Likewise, I'm sure. Danny. What's the matter with you? Busy, busy, busy. I won't keep you, Gino. It's all right. It's all right. What's on your mind? I will relate to you the tale of Sergeant Gino Tataglia and his trials of the last six hours. The interim between the time you found Mr. Lars Nielsen shot to death and then out. If anybody was a right arm to anybody, I am to the police department. Well, that goes without saying, Gino. A gender? To win. Upon the arrival of Mr. Nielsen at our morgue. You're sure his name is Nielsen? You're fighting me, Danny. I'm sorry. Accepted. Upon his arrival at our morgue, I had in Mr. Proudly the hotel man who did indeed identify him as his late departed guest named Lars Nielsen. Go on. And since Mr. Nielsen had been a denizen of Black River Falls, Wisconsin. You formed the chief of police there. Indeed, I did. And to find fellow he is who. Come on, Gino. I related him to the events concerning Mr. Nielsen and Ms. Polly Morgan. Then I asked him a little something about Mr. Nielsen. Guess what he said. Must I, Gino? His fancy suits. However, he asked me which Lars Nielsen I was talking about, since his records revealed two such having resided in Black River Falls. And? And I told him to give me info on both. An hour ago, he called back. And he said... This. One Lars Nielsen was a traveling salesman whose home was still in Black River Falls. The other was, of all things, a resident of New York, according to his folks whom he interrogated. Hearing this, I have located in our city such a Mr. Nielsen whose address I now hand to you. Oh, thank you, Gino. Don't mention it. But now, Danny, I will tweak you the way I was quitted. The chief of police did inform me that Ms. Polly Morgan has an aunt in Black River Falls. And proud of the fact, since Ms. Morgan is her nationally famous. And that, Danny, is my agenda for the day. Thank you, Mr. Nielsen. May I come in? One of my kids beat up on one of them bullies who looks... Look, Mr., whatever my kids do, I stand behind him a hundred percent. A man was killed today. A man named Lars Nielsen. Lars Nielsen, that's my name. Look how I'm living. Come on in. Just give me a minute to vacuum the catlet off this carpet. My wife works all day, so I won't get lonely. She leaves me with a Hoover. And the cat. And the kids whom I feed and throw out of the house. I wanted to ask you about... Oh, pardon. I want to apologize something to you. The reason I sport this robe and night shirt is I work night sleep days. Sleep? Uh, Lars Nielsen is dead, huh? It was in the papers. You get the chance at him in this house. Lars Niel... Hey, I couldn't... Oh, no, I couldn't... Couldn't be what, Mr. Nielsen? I was a kid once back in Black River Falls in Wisconsin. There was another kid who was a kid with me. Also went by the name of Lars Nielsen. It's got confusing sometimes, especially on calling up for a date. The girl would say, Which Lars Nielsen? Both our families descended from the same Swedish family tree, made us look like sort of coloring, you know? I would describe myself pointedly. That Lars is dead? We checked Black River Falls Police. A man who was killed came from there. 13 years old when I saw him last. I was 14. Tell me what you can remember about him. So long ago, years. Don't ask me to count how many. It'll help us. You trying to tell me he's dead? Because somebody... We shot. Broken in a woman's apartment. To steal? No. Lars? I've been sitting here remembering him from a picnic. High school stuff, you know? Summer picnic at the falls and a kid, a girl, oh, 12 years old, maybe. Lars went crazy for her, you know, like a 13-year-old does. At that age, he figures it impresses girls to break his neck hanging from trees, to beat up on a friend. He chose me. Lovely picnic. I shouldn't laugh, huh? A little girl, you remember who she was? Yeah, sure, certainly. For lots of reasons. First, she was only 12. Second, the aunt she was visiting, chaperoned on the picnic. Third, she got a big crush on me. Well, I was sophisticated at the age of 14 that made me attractive to 12-year-olds. I kept shoving her away on the other lie. She didn't want him. You remember her name? How could I miss it? This jock is whispered in my ear every time I turn over. Polly Morgan. Big deal with the ballad, personally, I can't say. You haven't seen her since Black River Falls. Look, mister, I got a wife with hay fever. She's spreading here and there. She screams at my kids. And I'm very fond of her. Why should I go looking for exotics like Polly Morgan? She killed Larmie Nielsen. You see, answers my question. I just said Miss Morgan was in her dressing room, but you were no place around at Polly fired me this afternoon. As soon as she's apartment, let her go on her own cognizance. What are they going to do? Call it justifiable homicide? We'll see. Vic, I wanted to talk to you before I talk to her. Sure. Why don't you sit down? Something to drink? No, thanks. Vic, what kind of woman is Polly Morgan? It's the greatest ballad singer in the country, for my mind. Besides that, Vic, there's a person. You saw her perform, you know. What about men? That's what I mean, you saw? She was right, Danny. I had to try to get close to her. Can't blame me, can you? I got teeth marks from this knuckle from thinking about it. They don't come like that. Not only on book checks. Yeah, but what makes her like she isn't? Why do you think she hates men? I kid myself in the thinking she's afraid to let herself go. She's always been like that? That's a funny thing. What is? She's changed. Oh, how? The week, 10 days ago, it happened. What then? She started smiling to herself. What do you mean then? Well, I was going to address her when it happened. She got a phone call. At first, she seemed stunned. She almost fainted. All she did was say yes into the phone. When she hung it up, it seemed like something inside of her was glowing. I go on. Well, nothing much more, Danny, except she's been sneaking away after recording dates, after performances. Yeah. But something else, Vic, has she ever talked to you about her past life? No. No, but I've wanted about it. Because has it ever occurred to you the song she sings best? I'm in a mood for love, once in a while, each foolish thing. So are you in songs like that? All from one season. All? I've noticed. I'm going to talk to her, Vic. Do you want to go along? Sure. Sure, I do. I couldn't hear about my getting fired, Danny. He passed me right into a dressing room. Listen to that doll sing. I think she can ask the ten G's or we can get it. Maybe. Look, I've been asking you, Danny, but you haven't been answering. What are we here for? What did you make? I mailed you a piece, I think. Close the door, Miss Morgan. You, too, out. You want everybody to hear what I have to tell you? About what? Lars Nielsen. That's the reason you're using to stay in my dressing room? What do you want me to do? Did you talk him into this bitch? Well, I'll leave, baby. Ask me to come with him. I don't have any idea. I asked you what do you want me to do? Answer questions. I answered questions all afternoon. You know what happened. You know how I killed that man. You know, Lars Nielsen. Why didn't you tell me that? Know him! Know a man like him! Vic, tell me once more about that phone call. What's he talking about? I don't know, baby. You afraid to tell me in front of her, Vic? No, it's not that. Tell me. Well, it was nothing. Probably got a phone call last week. She felt happy about it. Look, I never saw it. Shut up, Vic. Sure. Sure, baby. I just want to clear it up. So I told him he got a phone call. So what? Phone call from Lars Nielsen, wasn't it? That's right. She did. Yeah, like she was breathing the name. Hey. Vic, shut up. Shut up. Lars Nielsen from Black River Falls, Wisconsin. I don't know what you're talking about. Well, you spent a vacation 15 years ago. Maybe I did. I've been lots of places. Black River Falls was a vacation you never forgot. Remember the picnic? Vic, get him out of here. Look, Danny. Just sit right where you are, Vic. Vic. I was kidding about firing. Look, baby, what do you want me to do? He's a cop. Remember the picnic, Ms. Morgan? There were two boys there. Both of them named Lars Nielsen. Nothing strange about that in that Lake Country, especially, where most families come from the same stalk. Thank you very much for the information, you two. Not quite. You fell in love with one of those boys. Seven loves. Oh, what is this, Danny? What are you talking about? 15 years ago, Polly was only 12 years old. That was for Polly, because Polly built it, made a memory and exaggerated. What do you know? What do you know? Saturated until no other man was allowed in her life. Polly. You, too, Vic. What do you know? Then Lars Nielsen called. He'd come to New York. That was the phone call you saw, Vic. You saw what it did to her. Look, Danny, you can't make anything out of a kid pulling him up with another kid. You can't do it. Tell him, Vic. Tell him how wrong he is. So Polly started to sneak away to meet Lars Nielsen and tried desperately to make up for 15 lost years. Vic, Vic. And then she found out it was the wrong Lars Nielsen. The wrong? The same name, the same color. All your songs, Polly, all the songs that have made you famous, all from the same time, 15 years ago, a summer memory. That's why he killed him, huh, Polly? Because he was pulling him and he got the permit for the gun and you were just what you were going to do. The whole thing, a man following you, threatening you, Sony. He made love to me. He told me he was someone else and I believed him. All those years waited. 15 years, remembering, waiting. And then I found out it wasn't him at all. Pulling down to your end of the bar, footsteps that fade when you turn a corner. You run toward them, reach out your hand. It's only a closing door at the end of a long corridor. The gaudiest and most violent. She's been listening to some of the best in radio drama. With Fibber McGee and Molly in Broadway in my beats. Join us again Monday evening at the same time, 9 o'clock, when FBN presents, DRAGNET and ESCAPE.